The Thief
by lawla
Summary: A new killer stalks the streets of Camelot, stealing from some what makes them whole. As danger creeps ever closer, Merlin must decide whether to follow his heart or his head, and whether the world really is as black and white as he thinks it is.
1. Prologue

**AN: You know, one day I will actually finish a fic before I start a new one but ah well. This is a random plot bunny I've had for ages.**

**Not sure about this prologue. It's pretty short and will most likely be revised later when I have more time.**

**Anyway, this does story contain an OC, and whilst there will be love up to a point, it will be unrequited. Hopefully, she will stray away from Sue territory, but you never can be sure. :|**

**Random rant but is it just me that finds this new look of this website confusing? :L**

**Read and review? :)**

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He knew. He had known from the very first moment he'd set eyes on her that she would bring about his doom. An angel of death she was, and now, she had come for him, her cold hands outstretched and grasping. It was his life she wanted, his very soul that she sought to consume and he, for all his wisdom, was powerless to stop her.

She approached him slowly, the sharp glint of metal in her hand. Her touch was as cold as her gaze, perfectly calm yet showing signs of the underlying storm barely concealed beneath the surface. She caressed his face gently, her blue eyes wide and distant. The man began to writhe upon the ground, desperately seeking a way to be free of the invisible bonds she had placed over him. A witch she was, with a heart of stone and a face of marble. Still, he should have bested her for he was many years her elder and had in his finger tip more magic than many possessed in their whole bodies. As it was, she had overpowered him and now, he was looking destiny in the eye.

She bent down and whispered in his ear, words of hatred and despair but never of remorse. No, he realised. She did not regret what she was about to take from him, what she had taken from countless others. All he could do was look at her with wide eyes, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything other than watch the brutal strokes of the knife as she carved a small symbol into his cheek. He thrashed again wishing she would take him now and spare him the pain. Shaking her head, she ran her fingers along the blade wincing as it sliced into her skin.

The pain helped her to concentrate and she turned her attentions back to her victim, a small smile twisting the corners of her mouth. Even now she was beautiful, a wanton, destructive force that he had sneered at and mocked! He had been wrong, he knew that now. She was so much more, and he had helped her to become it. He could have prevented this, should have prevented this, because he knew that he was the one who had made her hard and cold.

It was only now that he realised what she had known for many years; the student had surpassed her teacher.

"I'm not sorry," she said softly before placing a bitter kiss upon his lips.

Then, the knife descended and he breathed no more.


	2. Chapter One: Shadows

**AN: Wahayy. Chapter one is here. It's a little longer than the prologue but still reasonably short. Hope you like it :).**

**No reviews for the last chapter :( No good?**

**Oh, and here's my disclaimer which I forgot: Melrin is not mine yadda yadda yadda... Doesn't the fact that it's fanfiction tell you something? ;):L**

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Night had fallen on Camelot and the city was silent. The pale face of the moon cast all that moved beneath its ethereal light into shadow, its silvery glow doing little to light the way for any foolish enough to wander the streets of Camelot in the dark.

To the untrained eye, they would appear to be empty, devoid of all movement save for the gentle swaying of signs in the wind. Few knew better; the streets of Camelot never slept, not really. There was always some sign of life whether it was the rustling of fabric or the scattering of the leaves on the ground.

Of course, certain parts of the city would be bustling with life no matter what time it was. Taverns and brothels in particular never seemed to suffer a lapse of trade, even in the grimmest weather. It seemed that the seedier part of life was by far the most popular with peasants and nobles alike, something that Merlin noted with distaste.

Still, he didn't suppose he looked much better, bloodied as he was. The young knight brought into their care had been the unfortunate victim of armed vagabonds in the street; not exactly a comforting thought considering Merlin was out here alone. Unfortunately for Merlin, someone had to collect the water and Gaius was otherwise engaged tending to said knight who's injuries, while not life threatening, could become so if not treated.

Mind you, it didn't stop Merlin from grumbling as he hurried towards the water pump, the heavy iron buckets trailing behind him.

"Stupid weather," he whispered wishing he'd worn an extra layer. His breath hung in the air and he shivered before chaffing at his arm with his free hand. The two handles of the buckets pinched the flesh on his palm and he dropped them with a resounding clatter. His squawk of surprise seemed to ring out loudly in the soundless street. The image of Arthur rolling his eyes came to mind, much to Merlin's annoyance. "Stupid, smug prince," he growled picking up the buckets, though the shadow of a smile played on his lips.

He passed the stocks, the smile becoming an all out grin. This was where it had really began for him, because it was where he had first met Gwen, the lowly serving girl who was so much more than anyone Merlin had ever met. None were so pure, so true, so completely selfless as Guinevere, servant to Morgana. Every glance, every smile sent a shiver down Merlin's spine. She really was perfect...

At last, Merlin came in sight of the pump. It was odd seeing it deserted; it looked strange without the usual throng of people queuing up, squabbling amongst themselves in the fashion of children. Merlin almost missed the harsh sound of the old crones as they gossiped in line, the lively shouts of the children and the occasional wail of an infant annoyed at all the commotion. No. City life wasn't really that bad when you got used to it.

Merlin began to fill the buckets up quickly using every ounce of strength to work the rusting pump. Occasionally, he would glance over his shoulder in search of some unknown foe. Silly really, because who could hope to match up to him? The magic in his fingertips was the only defence he would ever need. The only one he could see posing a threat to him was Nimueh, and she wasn't foolish enough to risk another jaunt into the city. He saw nothing and continued to pump.

Eventually, the buckets were full and Merlin's arms were tired. He quickly rinsed his arms under the tap in an effort to remove some of the red liquid covering his arms; he'd look a bit suspicious if he was caught with blood on his hands, especially seeing as there was a serial killer on the loose. A funny business, Gaius had called it as he disappeared into one of his books. Merlin had simply nodded, unable to see anything 'funny' about it. The killings seemed to be random, a passing fancy of whoever the murderer – or murderers – were. No one was safe.

Merlin did his best to dry his hands on his trousers before hoisting the buckets up, groaning as the icy water sloshed over his tunic. Great. Not only was he cold but wet as well. He only hoped that he didn't run into anyone on the way back to the castle.

A sudden snap made him drop the buckets and whirl round, eyes wide, to face a stack of crates balance precariously one on top of the other. A sharp hiss of breath was heard. Merlin glanced around wildly, hands raised in a defensive stance, his heart pounding in his ribcage. The only sound he could hear was his own, ragged breathing but he remained alert all the same.

"Hello?" he called, advancing slowly. "Anyone there?"

There was no reply, not that he had been expecting one. He cautiously peered into the shadows, ready to combat any attack that might be launched at him both magical and human. For a second, Merlin fancied he could see the deathly white silhouette of pale skin. Then he blinked, and the illusion was gone, replaced by the endless darkness. Merlin shivered, wishing that the moon was a little brighter.

No, he thought. Whatever it had been was undoubtedly long gone, though the hair on the back of his neck was still raised as he slowly began to fill the buckets up again, a nagging sense of dread in his stomach.

He hurried back quickly, rushing into Gaius' chambers with the speed of a swallow and throwing the door open with a crash.

"Water," he panted holding up one of the buckets. Gaius nodded and Merlin set them down beside him, careful to not spill a drop. There was no way that he was going back to the pump tonight, not unless Gaius practically forced him out of the door! Merlin would like to see him try, he thought with a chuckle.

"Merlin."

"Yes Gaius?" Merlin looked at his mentor questioningly, eyes too innocent to be earnest.

"The door."

"Oh! Oh right, the door!" Merlin grinned sheepishly before blundering over to shut it.

Gaius gave him a curious look but Merlin shook his head, oddly reluctant to share his experience with his mentor. After all, it was probably nothing more than a stray cat or something that all his noise has spooked. The old man had a lot on his mind these days and there was no point worrying Gaius for no reason. Still, Merlin was not convinced.

The knight moaned. There were beads of sweat on his forehead and his body was poised as if to bolt. Gaius dabbed at the wound with ointment, a steadying hand upon the young man's arm.

"You are lucky, master knight. The wound, while undoubtedly painful, should not leave any lasting damage. A little further to the left and it might have been a different story..."

Merlin almost laughed at the knight's gulp. He was a thin man, tall and wiry with coarse black hair and frightened eyes, the sort of man more suited for life inside the court. This man was no more a knight than Merlin was.

"Merlin," Gaius said. "Come here and help me bandage the wound." Merlin did as he was told, recoiling slightly from the foul smelling ointment.

"_What_ is that?" he asked trying to breathe as little as possible.

"Myrrh and achillea."

"It smells disgusting," Merlin replied, grinning. The knight groaned again as Gaius finished tying the bandage.

"Their healing properties are well-known for this sort of wound. Now, hadn't you best be off to bed? Arthur will not be happy if you turn up in his chambers still half asleep."

Merlin nodded before slipping off to his room and collapsing onto the bed with a thud. He truly was exhausted, what with serving Arthur all day then helping the physician. He wasn't sure which one had been more demanding; providing a combatant for Arthur or running about for Gaius. No rest for the wicked, his mother would have said and Merlin felt the corners of his mouth twitch. He did miss her, his old mam. Never a day went by when he didn't wish that she was here, laughing and imparting random wisdom. Still, he never could have stayed.

He was too different, he knew that. Someone would have realised eventually, that all the odd incidents, all the strange, unexplainable things only happened when he was around and then what would have happened? He would have been killed, executed for 'Camelot' despite the fact that he had never willingly hurt another individual in his life. No, his mother had been right to send him to Gaius, because if he didn't learn how to use his powers here, he never would. Besides, if he had never come here, he never would have met Gwen or Arthur. Merlin would still be alone, incomplete... He had found his destiny.

It was with that thought that he crawled into the covers and shut his eyes, still fully clothed. Today was finally over.

Night had fallen on Camelot.


	3. Chapter Two: Shimmers

**AN: So here it is at last. Sorry about the wait. I've had ten million other things to update recently. **

**Anyway, the mystery deepens as such :L.**

**Reviews, as ever, are appreciated. **

**Thanks to LadyMidday, KittyKittyKittyCat, DementedViper and Rockqween for their reviews. I actually love you guys :D **

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Merlin woke the next day, tired and confused, his head pounding from lack of sleep. Last night's events came flooding back to him and he sighed, unwilling to leave the warmth of his bed but knowing that he had to.

Still, five more minutes couldn't hurt. In an effort to recreate the darkness of night, Merlin flung his arm over his eyes, accidentally knocking his magic book off the table next to him. It fell to the floor with a thump, loud and obtrusive in the quiet room. Merlin stifled a groan, realising that his guardian would be in no doubt that he was awake.

Sure enough, a loud rapping on the door closely followed by the voice of Gaius disturbed him and he scowled.

"Merlin? Merlin, I know you're awake. I need some fresh water as soon as possible."

"Coming," Merlin huffed as he threw back the covers and immediately recoiled from the cold blast of air about his legs. He shivered slightly before pulling on a clean blue shirt and hunting for the rest of his clothes.

"Merlin," came the voice again. "We haven't got all day."

"Merlin," the young warlock mimicked whilst rolling his eyes. "Do this Merlin, do that Merlin, we haven't got all day Merlin..." Then he smiled, knowing that no matter how Gaius annoyed him, he was still one of the best people in Merlin's life, and the only person who really understood him. The one person who accepted him for who he was. Will had been like that too, but he was gone now. Dead.

Merlin forced himself to blink back his tears as he pulled on his boots. The past was the past, and no magic in the world as strong enough to fix it.

"Merlin!" Gaius called again, his tone sharper. "Merlin, if you –"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Merlin Interrupted, the faint trace of grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Gaius was not known for his patience.

As it was, when Merlin opened his bedroom door, he found both the knight and his guardian looking at him with narrowed eyes.

The knight had certainly improved overnight; there was a healthy flush in his cheek and his movements did not seem to be so stiff or painful. His expression of utter contempt at Merlin's appearance was also another sign of his recovery.

"You took your time," Gaius told him with a grimace. Merlin opened his mouth to protest but was quickly interrupted. "Now, run along to the pump and fetch me some water. Quickly now!"

Merlin nodded, glaring at the knight before grabbing the buckets by the door and exiting. He was a dying breed, the kind who thought he was better than anyone else because he was of noble blood. Blood didn't matter, Merlin knew, because someone of the noblest, best people he had ever met had been paupers, people the law scoffed at because they were of a peasantry decent. Will, Lancelot... Both brave, both peasants, both saviours. Both gone.

The pump was crowded, hordes of people queuing up for their daily water. Merlin scowled as he realised that he was in for a long wait, settling into the line with a huff. Gaius was not going to be impressed.

The line moved slowly and his patience wavered. Trust Gaius to pick the worst hour of the day. Merlin always hated it when it was like this. There was too much going on, too little peace and quiet to allow him to concentrate and enjoy a leisurely wait like the others.

Suddenly, a scrawny woman rammed into him, the liquid in her buckets spilling out onto his shirt.

"Oi! An excuse me would have been nice," Merlin said pointedly, but she had already vanished into the crowd. He scowled, unsuccessful in trying to find her amongst the throng. A nudge on his shoulder followed by a short, stubby finger told him that he should move up.

He did so grudgingly, glaring at those closest to him with annoyance. A sudden flash of blue caught his eyes, and he found himself staring at a hooded figure, stood across the other side of courtyard away from the crowd. A hooded figure that was definitely, Merlin realised, staring back.

It was hard to denounce anything about the person, swathed as they were in a shimmering grey cloak that trailed upon the floor. Merlin looked for notable features but there were none, all hidden by the deep overhang of the hood. But there it was again, that brief flash of entrancing blue. What could it belong to? The figure looked up slightly, their lower jaw becoming visible. A small smile crossed the full lips, and the person held up their hand in a gesture of farewell. Merlin blinked, surprised to find that when he opened his eyes again, the figure was gone.

He blinked again, the vague suspicion that lack of sleep was making him see things in the back of his mind. People did not just disappear, did they? No, there had to be some other explanation. Magic maybe, but who would publicly display magic in Camelot? Still, it didn't appear that many others had seen the act, so maybe it was just Merlin's imagination acting up.

He frowned, deciding to keep it to himself. It would only worry Gaius if he knew, and Hunith, his mother, was too far away. Besides, he wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect that he might be seeing things.

He collected the water without further event, returning to the castle in silent musing. Odd, he thought. Two strange things in the space of two days.

He pushed open the physician's door, surprised to find the room completely empty.

"Gaius?" he called out, plonking the buckets down by the door and rubbing his protesting shoulders. "Sir Geoffrey? Anyone?" His only reply was the soft drip of a plant extract that his mentor was straining. "Okay. Nice of you to leave a –" He broke off suddenly, catching sight of the parchment on the table. "Oh. So you did leave a note then."

He read it quickly, so adjusted was he to the sprawling handwriting of Gaius.

_Merlin,_

_Meet me in Earl Street as soon as possible._

_Gaius._

Merlin sighed as he pushed the note down into the depths of his pocket. It seemed that he was going to have to wait for any more information, much to his chagrin. Hadn't he already done enough waiting for one day? _Apparently not, _he thought with a grin, imagining Arthur's furious expression as he wondered where his man servant had got to.

Perhaps Merlin should visit him first to tell him that Gaius was in need of his help? No. Arthur would only insist on coming with him or keeping him back. What's more, it would do the headstrong prince good to be taught some patience.

Merlin left, making sure to shut the door and lock it. On his way out of the castle, he met a young woman carrying clothes destined for the Lady Morgana. He called out to her, once, twice but she didn't stop. How was it that Arthur managed to command the attention of everyone he passed?

In a final, frustrated effort, Merlin decided to try and adopt some of the bolshie manner of his prince.

"You there!" said Merlin, in a vain attempt to speak with some authority. The woman stopped, glancing at the young warlock with questioning eyes. "Umm, could you possibly tell Arthur that his manservant will be late today? If it's no hassle, that is."

She stared at him with amusement, but nodded all the same.

"Aye," she said. "I'll do that."

"You are a very nice woman," Merlin said and she laughed, waving him on his way.

His good mood soon evaporated when he reached Earl Street. There was a sombre silence about the place, a dark sorrow that seemed to hang over all who were present. Several weeping forms were slumped at the sides of the street, mainly women but also children and men, and Merlin had to be careful to avoid them.

Eventually, he spied Gaius talking to an elderly women with black hair streaked with grey. She was a plump woman, round with a large midriff protruding from her dress. She talked animatedly, striking at the air with her hands in gestures of annoyance or surprise, and Gaius had that slightly glazed look in his eyes more accustomed from when he was talking to Merlin.

A shadow of relief passed across the elderly man's features when he caught sight of Merlin weaving his way through the crowd.

"Merlin," he called over the braying of the crowd. "Follow me."

Merlin did as he was told, trailing Gaius into a small, cluttered house. The walls were heavily ornamented with various shelves, each one covered in plants, books and strange devices that Merlin knew to be of magical use. The windows were small and splintering, the stone sill crumbling away at the edges. To his left were two door, one of which he guessed was the bedroom. The whole place sent tingles down his spine; yes, it had an air of neglect but it was more than that. The place was rotten, and he didn't just mean the smell.

Merlin went to step forward but Gaius held out an obstructing arm, his face grave.

"Look down."

Merlin wished he hadn't. It seemed to Gaius that the young man's face immediately took on an unhealthy shade of green as he stared at the carnage before him.

"Is he –" Merlin's voice caught in his throat and he gulped loudly.

"Dead?" Gaius finished. "Quite."

"So it's another one then?"

Merlin's mentor nodded, staring at the corpse with unfathomable eyes.

"I'm afraid so, though he's only been dead for a few hours I would guess. Same marking, same circumstances, same everything more or less. Poor soul."

"What are they?" Merlin asked pointing to the magic contraptions on the shelves. "You don't think that it could be a replica murder, someone who hates magic as much as Uther but wants to pin it on someone else."

"I'm afraid not. The rune is identical. I have no doubt that this is the same killer, though I am still not clear of the motive. As for the instruments, they are common of a sorcerer."

Both men paused to stare down at the mark on the man's cheek, each silently contemplating the sheer horror of what must have happened here. Merlin bent down to examine the rune, recoiling slightly at the increased stench of decay.

It was a swirling thing that stretched across his cheek bone, no more than five centimetres wide. In the centre was a symbol. Merlin strained his eyes, but the blood had clogged making it virtually unrecognisable. Still, he was fairly certain that it would be the same as the others.

"Still no luck deciphering it?"

"No," Gaius replied. "I cannot find any trace of it in any of my books."

"How many victims is it now?"

"Five."

Merlin shook his head, frowning slightly as he stood up.

"Come," said Gaius placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. "It does not do to dwell here for longer than necessary. There's one thing we can be certain of; something is stirring in Camelot."

They left quickly, stepping out from the dimly lit room in disgust. Merlin shivered, wishing there was some way he could get clean.

He remembered seeing the first body and the feelings of nausea it had stirred up in him. The man had been elderly, a loner who had hidden in his house and seen no one. He had stared at Merlin with a vacant, unseeing expression, his body glazed with red. There had been so much blood...

A sudden shimmer caught Merlin's eye and he glanced to his right. There was the figure again silently watching him, slender form shrouded in grey. There was that blue again. It was definitely from around the face, he realised. Earrings maybe, or a necklace?

Beside him, Gaius paused thoughtfully, to preoccupied to wonder what his young protégé was staring at. _There has to be a link, _he thought. _Some connection between all the victims. _He sighed heavily, the faint traces of worry at the corners of his mouth. The fact that the killer had managed to overpower someone with magic at their disposal was not a comforting thought.

"Merlin," Gaius said snapping out of his trance. "We should be getting back. There's work to do, and I've no doubt that Prince Arthur is awaiting your arrival."

Merlin took a while to answer, so entranced was he by the figure. They raised a hand again revealing long, feminine fingers and porcelain skin.

"Coming," Merlin said, only half paying attention. The figure was still there, still watching him from underneath the hood. "What do you –" He stopped suddenly, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched the figure dance into an open alleyway and vanish from sight.

Then he heard it. One word, spoken in the most melodious voice he had ever heard.

_Emrys. _


	4. Chapter Three: Fear and Awe

**AN: How good it is to have the internet back again! :D. I can finally post some things :D. **

**Hmm, this chapter was a difficult one, as dear old Isolde (the OC) has some Sueish qualities. However, I'm hoping that I managed to make her seem frightening and slightly strange as well as beautiful and witty; believe me when I say that she has many sides to her. BTW, her beauty _does _play a part in the plot, so it is there for a reason. :D**

**If she's too Sueish, don't hesitate to leave me a snotty review. :D As always, all feedback is appreciated :D Thanks to Lady Midday for reviewing the last chapter :).**

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Without being fully conscience of his actions, Merlin broke into a run, his fists clenched. _Emrys _meant only one thing; danger. Gaius watched him go, stunned by the sudden departure of his ward but dismissing it as flightiness. Merlin had always been quite strange and it seemed that today was not going to be out of the norm.

Merlin reached the alley in seconds, surprised to see that there was no grey clad figure in sight. Everywhere he saw blues and greens and oranges and yellows but no grey, never any grey. He grabbed the arm of the woman on his left whirling her round to face him.

"A person," he panted, "clad – in grey. Where did – they go?"

She pointed to his left, mouth opening to reveal rotten teeth. Merlin recoiled, nodding his thanks as he did so. Then he was off again, weaving his way through alleys and streets alike, desperate to avoid crashing into people who might stop him from completing his mission. Occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of grey as it disappeared round the corner, but never did he see a full sighting until he had more or less given up, slumped onto the wall with his head in his hands, panting heavily from exhaustion.

Footsteps. They were soft, gentle against the stone but they were there. All at once, Merlin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as he realised that someone was there. Watching him. There, watching him and he was a sitting duck for their attack.

He glanced up, dismayed to find the grey clad figure scrutinising him, the slight rippling of the fabric shimmering as _she_ advanced. _She. _Merlin was certain that that's what they were. A female sorcerer. Nimueh maybe – though it had not sounded like her – or some other woman desiring to kill him.

"Stop!" he called, jumping to his feet and stumbling slightly on the cobbles. "Don't come any closer!" To his surprise, the figure did as he asked, the footsteps ceasing and he allowed himself to breathe again.

_I wouldn't dream of it._

"Stop that!"

_Stop what?_

"Talking inside my head."

The figure laughed and Merlin's suspicions were confirmed. Definitely feminine. Definitely something to hide.

"If you wish," she said from under the oversized hood. "Though you are hardly in a position to negotiate. I must admit to expecting more from you, Emrys."

"More?" he stuttered, eyes wide. Beside him, his hand twitched and the woman looked at it with mild amusement barely visible in the dimness.

"You wish to kill me." It was not a question, Merlin realised, listening to the soft lilt of her voice as she spoke. "I can't blame you, I suppose, though I wish you would be friendlier."

Merlin scowled, annoyed that she was being so cryptic. He remembered Gaius telling him once that sorcerers would rely on anything to accomplish their goal, be it magic, persuasion, mystery, blackmail or taunting. Other words came to him then, words he'd heard spoken many times in his youth; _know your enemy, Merlin, know your enemy and then you will be unstoppable._

Unstoppable. It didn't feel like it, not at the moment. If only he could see her face, everything would be so much easier...

"Who are you?" Merlin asked suddenly. "What's your name?"

"I have many names, Emrys." She paused, pale hand lifting before dropping back to her side, "They say you can do great evils to someone if you know their name."

Merlin found himself shuddering, wondering if, by naming him, she had

"You call me Emrys? You have dealings with the druids?"

"Perhaps," she said, once again drawing Merlin in with the lilt of her voice.

"I don't recognise your accent. Where are you from?"

"Around," she said in that mysterious, seductive tone of voice.

"You don't originate from Camelot, do you?"

"No," she said with a slight shake of the head, "though I have lived here for many years. I come from wilder places." A small smirk twisted the corners of her mouth upwards. "It seems even the great city of Camelot cannot tame me."

All ways riddles. Merlin found himself being reminded of another entity who would never give him a direct answer, and a small smile blossomed on his lips.

"Yes, Emrys," she said, misunderstanding the gesture. "Smile, for I will not hurt you."

"Why won't you show yourself then?"

"You had not asked it of me, but if it will convince you that I am a friend and not a foe, I will do as you ask." And with that, pale skin reached up and the hood slipped from her head.

What Merlin had been expecting was not what he saw. Long, fair hair cascaded in waves down the woman's back. Her face was heart shaped with high cheekbones, angled brows and cherry lips set in a small, crooked smile. It was her skin, however, that tugged at his attention; she was not just flawless and pale but _white, _the colour of death. He shuddered, reminded of the body he'd seen earlier. Her blue eyes widened and she spoke with a tremor in her voice.

"I repulse you?"

"No," he said, "no you don't. Not at all"

Her eyes narrowed, and he realised that they were the blue he had seen. Framed by thick black lashes, they were strangely beautiful; unnatural and unsettling yet captivating all the same. That was her; exceedingly beautiful but unnatural and frightening because of it.

An odd look flitted over her features and she chuckled.

"Do I frighten you?"

Merlin stared at her, not sure if he was more unsettled by the fact that she could read him like a book, or the odd tone she had spoken to him in. It had almost been excited.

"Yes," he said, deciding that honesty was probably the best option. She laughed again, peals of laughter escaping her lips before she became deadly serious.

"Don't be afraid, Emrys," she said moving closer towards him. "I mean _you_ no harm."

"If you mean me no harm then why have you been following me?"

"I came to find you."

"What? Why?"

She looked at him

"I dreamt of you. I dreamt of Camelot and I saw it burn."

"Saw it?"

"I've seen a lot of things, Emrys."

"Why does everyone keep calling me that? My name is Merlin."

"Yes," she nodded, "but a man can have more than one name and you have many. In time, you will discover the truth," she paused, an odd expression flashing briefly across her face, "and so will your prince."

"Arthur?"

"Yes. You and he are –"

"– two sides of a coin. I know."

"No," she said softly, face solemn. "Not just two sides of a coin. Two people. Two friends." Merlin stared at her, a slight frown tingeing his lips.

"I don't think so," he said eventually.

"It's already began," she replied. "There are some things in life that we're destined for, Emrys, whether we want it or not."

There was that look again, that fleeting shadow that passed across her face. Merlin forced himself to look away; her beauty was beginning to make his eyes ache.

It couldn't be real beauty though. She seemed to glow with an ethereal light, pearly skin white against the grey. No one could be so terribly striking, not naturally. A spell maybe, or a potion...

"It's a glamour," she told him, dark eyes twinkling. He gulped, realising that he had mused out loud.

"A glamour?" he asked, remembering reading something about it in his magic book.

"Yes," she said. "Of sorts."

"So it's fake?"

"A glamour can't give you beauty, Emrys. It emphasizes what you already have, but it can't give you something you don't. In effect, it makes you more noticeable, more..." she paused, searching for the correct word, "memorable. I want people to be special, Emrys. I want my face to forever be burned into their conscience, their thoughts, their wants... I want them to remember me."

Merlin found himself taking an involuntary step back at the sudden fervour in her eyes, the way her fists clenched white by her side, the way her cherry lips tightened into a cold, hard line.

"I'm frightening you again," she said softly, gently as if she was speaking to a minor. Merlin studied her closely; she looked about his age, maybe younger, though it was hard to tell. She'd already admitted to deceiving him once; why should she be honest about her age. She could be like Nimueh. No, she could be Nimueh. All at once, his distrust returned and he eyed her warily.

"How old are you?"

"So inquisitive," she said, the smirk returning, "but I shall tell you. I have been on this earth for eighteen winters." A troubled frown briefly twisted her features, but Merlin dismissed it as another of her looks. "Eighteen winters," she repeated. "I fear my time is running out."

"What do you mean by that?" Merlin demanded, cautious and yet curious.

"How would I keep up my mysterious facade if I told you _all _my secrets, Emrys?" She chuckled and her eyes twinkled, and once again, Merlin was struck by her beauty. False, he told himself, false and yet true. She watched him with interest before continuing, "Now I must leave you, and may meet again tomorrow as friends."

"Friends? I barely know you. How do I know that I can trust you?" he said tentatively. The frown returned, saddened this time and there was remorse in her eyes.

"You can't."

He blinked and she was gone, leaving Merlin with the realisation that he hadn't even learnt her name.


	5. Chapter Four: Second Meetings

**AN: Sorry, sorry, sorry about the long delay! I've been so busy and have barely had time to update anything! **

**Not quite sure about this chapter; it's kind of more of a filler but I think it might be a bit boring. **

**Reviews, as ever, are very much appreciated! Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter three :D. **

* * *

Despite making a vow of not looking for her, Merlin spent the next day glancing over his shoulder in hope of catching sight of the mysterious stranger. True, he didn't fully expect to see her – he had barely convinced himself that last night's meeting wasn't a dream – but the slightest flash of grey would have been nice to convince him that he really wasn't going insane. Maybe it was better this way?

When he thought about it, the more he realised that he wanted never to see that haunting, beautiful face again. He could take the monsters and he could take the ghosts, but one woman with the face of death had him running for cover. Still, he wasn't one hundred percent convinced that she wasn't a monster anyway. How could a creature with such a terrifying face be human? No, better not to see it at all and be declared insane than to see it again.

At least, that's what the young warlock told himself although it didn't stop his gaze from wandering. Regardless of his attempts to be discrete in his searching, he didn't escape the intrigue of Arthur.

"Looking for someone?" the prince asked, blue eyes playful.

"No," replied Merlin with a small smile that did not quite meet his eyes. "Why would I be looking for someone?"

"You're a rubbish liar, Merlin." He could have laughed at the irony had it not been for the slightly irritated expression on the prince's face. "Now tell me truthfully. Are you looking for someone?"

"Maybe," the warlock chuckled though the sound was tinged by nerves.

"Maybe? What sort of answer is that?" Arthur pouted, pausing from searching the market place to stare at his servant. "Come on, Merlin. You can tell me anything." Maybe it was just a trick of the eye, but Merlin could have sworn that he saw Arthur wink.

With a raise of his eyebrows, Merlin snorted. Anything? The idea of being able to tell his master anything was momentarily appealing until the hard, cold truth smacked him in the face. He could tell Arthur nothing because what he had to tell would hurt not just him but everyone who had ever believed in him. Gaius, Gwen, his mother... Even Arthur himself! No, the truth needed to stay buried, at least for the moment.

"It's really nothing, just some girl –"

"Girl?" Arthur jumped on the word with a grin. Merlin wanted to kick himself; there was no way that Arthur would leave it be. The prince was inquisitive by nature, and seemed to think that, because he was the prince, he has a God-given right to know everything.

"It's not like that."

"Getting defensive," Arthur said, but a dark look from Merlin stopped him from saying anymore. Whoever _she _was, it was clear the manservant did not want to talk about her.

There was an awkward silence for several moments, broken only by the steady pounding of their footfalls on the street. A sudden hand signal from the prince made the party halt suddenly, and Arthur brought his finger to his lips. Behind them, the guards shifted nervously as they eyed the doorway. Every instinct screamed at them to run; they didn't need the door hanging off its hinges to tell them that something evil had taken place here.

"Is this it?" Merlin hissed, earning him a jab in the ribs from Arthur. "Oww!"

"Does it look like this is it?" Arthur hissed.

"Well, yes."

"Then this is it then."

Merlin might have laughed had the situation not been so serious.

The eight men continued to stare at the house for a moment until at last, Arthur drew his sword and strutted forward. _I'm not afraid, _he seemed to be saying, but that didn't stop his men from quaking.

Arthur strode through the doorway, Merlin on his heels. It was a bold, brash move, and, had the perpetrator been present, Merlin was sure that they would have been killed. The house was dark, any sources of light eradicated by the heavy, black drapes that hung at the windows. In the dim gloom, Merlin could make out the shape of a table and chair, and some sort of black thing in the corner.

Arthur stopped suddenly and Merlin collided with him, the sharp flecks of the prince's chainmail digging into Merlin's shoulder.

"Why have you stopped?"

"Can't you smell it?"

Now that Arthur mentioned it, there was a definite rusty stench in the air that was both familiar and foreign to Merlin. Blood.

"Guards," Arthur called, his voice echoing around the room. "Take down those drapes."

The men shuffled in one by one, wary eyed and frightened but doing as they were asked. Within a few seconds of fumbling with the drapes, they were down and the room was lit by the yellow glow of the sun.

At once there was clarity. Underneath their feet lay a lake of blood, dark in colour and drying around the edges. The blood seemed to be stemming from the black bundle in the corner, which upon investigation proved to be a body.

Merlin felt the familiar sickness rise within him as he stared at the withered face, cheek marred by the same symbol as all of the others. There could be no doubt about it now; a serial killer was on the loose.

Still, it became fairly obvious to Merlin that this murder was not quite the same as the others. For starters, the victim was a woman unlike the previous five, though her hair had been cut in an effort to make her look like a man. There also appeared to have been some sort of struggle judging from all the debris on the floor; candle sticks and plates and cutlery and books. Hundreds of books. Hundreds of _spell _books.

"A copy-cat figure?" Merlin asked tentatively noticing how pale Arthur's face had gone. He guessed that he was a similar colouring, though maybe he was green.

"I don't think so," Arthur said after a while. "The marking is exactly the same and despite the struggle, the circumstances seem similar. I would say that this woman is victim number five."

Merlin shivered slightly remembering the panicked face of the woman who had rushed to the court this morning, eyes wild with the news she had to tell. A murder, she had said, carried out in the dead of night. Uther had simply stared coldly at her before ordering Arthur to take some men and investigate.

"Fetch Gaius." The stern voice of the prince brought Merlin back to the present and he nodded, thankful that he was able to escape the small, bloodied room. On the way out, he stumbled over a candlestick wincing as his wrists collided with the floor.

"Oww," he muttered pushing himself back up again and rubbing his injured limbs. He glanced down, both surprised and revolted to see that his hands – and now his wrists – were smeared with the blood of the dead woman. He wiped them on his clothes, his breath catching in his throat. "Wash that off," the prince instructed, grinning slightly. "And Merlin?"

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Don't spend too much time looking for girls."

Despite the sobriety of the circumstance, a stretched smile played at the edges of Merlin's lips.

"I won't," he promised.

***

In the end, it was not Merlin who found _her, _but her who found him.

He had been walking as fast as he could back to the castle when she fell into step beside him, her light, airy footsteps soundless.

"Emrys," she said.

"I don't have time to talk to you now," Merlin snapped, desperately trying to look at anything other than her.

"Yes you do." Her tone was persuasive, seductive even and he found himself turning to look at her. She looked different in the warmth of the daylight, softer somehow and less frightening. In fact, it was hard to see why he had been frightened of her at all until her blue eyed gaze locked with his. Then, the fear came rushing back to him and he quickened his pace.

"Leave me alone." The words sounded weak even to him and she laughed silkily.

"Is that what you really want?" She paused to scrutinize him before continuing. "I can teach you things, Merlin, things that they don't want you to know, things that might one day save your life or help end the life of one of your enemies! I can tell you what you've wanted to know for the whole of your life, answer some of the questions in the back of your mind, things that even you're not aware that you want to know! I can help you, Merlin."

Merlin knew he ought to say no, the politely refuse the offer and tell her to leave, but when he went to do it, he could not verbalise the words. The simple truth was he was curious, curious about what she could actually teach him and curious about her.

"Tell me your name. You know mine, so what's the problem?"

"I am Isolde," she told him, biting her lip thoughtfully and cocking her head to the side.

"Isolde?" he repeated twisting the name about his tongue. "It suits you."

She smiled at him briefly before her expression became alarmed.

"You're injured?"

"What?" Merlin glanced down at his body, eyes coming to rest on the smears of blood that still stained his hands. "Oh this? This isn't my blood."

"Whose is it?" She asked the question nonchalantly but there was something about her eyes that told Merlin she wanted to know the answer.

"Oh, it's... umm... a pig's."

"A pig's?" She raised her eyebrows in disbelief before her face took on a darker expression and the fear came flooding back. "Don't lie to me, Merlin." Her tone was dangerous yet somehow thrilling, and it sent a ripple of anticipation down Merlin's spine. "I am not so easily fooled."

"Sorry," Merlin said, feeling all at once like he was back at home with his mother and had just been caught doing something very naughty. "It's from a body."

"A body?"

"Yes. She was murdered."

"Murdered," she repeated with a tight smile, but there was none of the shock that Merlin had expected. Instead, her eyes seemed to dance with some unknown humour and her voice was thoughtful. "That is a shame."

"Yes." If she noticed the nervousness in Merlin's tone, she didn't say anything.

At last, they came into view of the castle gate. To Merlin's surprise, Isolde stopped short of passing through, instead hanging back with a regal smile.

"You're not coming?" Merlin asked as he turned back to face her.

"No, my friend. Here we must part." She grinned slyly and her eyes glittered. "Your castle isn't ready for me yet."

"But you will come one day?" He wasn't sure what made him say it, only that the thought of parting filled him with something akin to dread. She was like a drug; something he loathed but desired all the same.

"One day," she agreed, "but not yet. Goodbye, Merlin."

"Goodbye, Isolde."

It was only after she'd gone that he realised that she'd called him Merlin.


	6. Chapter Five: Revenge

It had been hard, the last one. She'd tried to tell herself that it would be easy but it hadn't been, not really. It was one thing to kill someone she hated; quite another to kill someone she had once loved. That was the truth of it, she realised. She had loved him and she had wanted him and in the end, she had shed tears over him. Perhaps she loved him still if the hopelessness in her heart was anything to go by. Too late now; he was gone.

She could still remember him though. Four years her senior, she had thought him wonderful since the very first time they had met and luckily, her affections had been returned despite the fact that he said he was too old. Of course, Old Gregory had tried to stop them from seeing each other but it had not worked; a love that powerful was unstoppable, unrivalled by any hate or malice. For a while, things had been the perfect fairytale, but he had seen into her mind and been frightened with what he saw. The romance had ended and so had the fairytale.

This time, it was different. She owed this man nothing because what had he given her? The only things he had taught her were fear and hatred. She was just a girl, just a child when he'd given her to the darkness! She'd cried for hours but no one had come, not until the damage was already done. No, this man deserved death and she would happily give it to him.

He was watching her now, greying hair illuminated by the silvery glow of the moonlight. There was a cold glint in his gaze and a steely quality in his face that was neither attractive nor repulsive. He hadn't aged since she'd last seen him though he seemed to have become more catlike; the eyes were slits. All in all, to everyone else, he was a nobody, someone to walk pass in the street and feel indifference towards. Not for her though.

He seemed to know that he was a dead man. He had gone deathly pale and his hands shook, though he still retained darker skin then her. The lightning bolt he sent went off target but managed to singe her shoulder, momentarily catching her off her guard. She hissed, blue eyes burning, but the stabbing pain gave her further focus; it was better than the ache, the dull, everlasting ache that could never quite be eradicated no matter how hard she tried.

"Come to kill me," he mocked, eyes alight with a fear that was quickly becoming malice. "You'll have to do better than this." He laughed bitterly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine and she knew all at once that this was right. This way meant that the innocent were saved and only the guilty were punished. "You always was a failure."

"A failure," she repeated, almost distantly. "Yes, you could call it that. You ruined me, and I in turn will ruin you."

"Ruined? You was ruined before you even came 'ere. Bad stock!" He chortled but the fear in his eyes grew more pronounced as they widened. "I should've killed you whilst I 'ad the chance! Never good for nothing you weren't!" He went to raise his hand but at once the strangest sensation overcame him and he found that he could not move. She smiled slightly as she advanced slowly pulling from her cloak a shining, silver dagger.

Recognition dawned in his eyes, and the fact that he knew what it was gave her a strange, vindictive kind of satisfaction. His terror was evident; it radiated from him, bouncing off the walls and back at him until all that stood before her was a petrified mess. She was certain that had he been standing of his own accord, he would have been kneeling on the floor.

"Kneel for me," she instructed, desiring to prolong the satisfaction for longer. Involuntarily, he dropped to his knees but his eyes never strayed from hers. They were cold now, he realised. The innocent light had left them, replaced by all the darkness of a killer.

"Like your own." The prospect of her reading his thoughts sent him into a frenzied panic and he began to attempt to break free of her spell. She laughed coldly. "You shall not escape me, Gregory, not now. My life could have been happy but you took all the happiness away. This is your fault. You signed your own death warrant long ago."

"I taught you everything! Everything!"

"Not everything," she replied. "_He _taught me what I wanted, but you took that away."

"Please!" he began to plead. "Please don't kill me! You won't ever be free of it! Never! You'll just become more wretched than death itself!"

"I am death," she replied. A flash of silver and his heart beat no longer.


	7. Chapter Six: A Visit in the Darkness

**AN: Very, very late chapter. Been so busy recently what with exams and last minute coursework that I've barely had time to do any writing. Sucks :(.**

**Not sure about this chapter; it's more of a filler but rest assured that the next update contains a bit more action and suspense.**

**Reviews are love. Cookies and cake for all those that do XD.**

She'd only ever watched one other person sleep before.

That was the thought that twisted round her mind as she listened to his gentle breathing, soft and comforting in the shady moonlight that slipped through the window. She wasn't even certain why she was there, only that she had an odd desire to be with him whilst there was that brief, flitting peace within her. She knew too well that it would be gone soon and then it would be back to the old ways, the dangerous ways, the ones that meant that things like this could never happen. For the child of Aethon, life simply did not work that way.

The boy in the bed let out a sudden cry that seemed to echo in the silence and Isolde's heart nearly shot out of her chest. Warily, she slipped further into the shadows until she had almost completely melted into the blackness. With baited breath, she waited for the chamber's door to open but it did not. This was obviously a nightly occurrence and she took pleasure in the fact that she was clearly not the only thing that went bump in the night.

A few minutes later, Merlin cried out again. Isolde found herself praying that his dreams were not visions in disguise, and that he wouldn't suddenly wake with dark truths in his mind. That would ruin everything and all that she had worked to maintain would be lost. It would be –

"Isolde?" The voice in the darkness was questioning, wary even and there was a sharp hiss of breath when she moved.

"Merlin." The name was enough to reassure Merlin that the person was who he thought it was though the worry in his stomach did not vanish. "You're awake."

"What are you doing here?"

"Curious?" She chuckled lightly but there was a steely note to her voice. "I was –," she paused, her face screwing up as she tried to think of the correct words. "I didn't want to be alone," she eventually told him, tossing her head a little to the left as she moved out of the shadows. The moonlight illuminated the left side of her face casting the rest into shadow; the luminous skin was just another reminder of how terrifyingly unnatural she was. In fact, Merlin decided, she was glowing and for a moment or two, his mind began to play tricks on him. Angels and demons didn't seem so different in the dark.

"Didn't want to be alone?" The scepticism in his tone shone through and she wrinkled her nose, disgruntled.

"Yes, Merlin."

"Don't you have somewhere to be? Somewhere other than my bedroom?" The warlock blinked weary eyes, fighting the urge to bury his head into the pillow. It couldn't have been long after four in the morning and darkness was spilling through the window. He didn't have to get up for another hour yet and moments of sleep were too precious to be wasted! Still, he found himself sitting up, self consciously pulling the covers up around him.

Isolde laughed softly at the movement.

"I'll leave if you want me to."

"No!" The word was blurted out before he could suppress it and Merlin felt himself flush, glad that the blackness hid his face from her gaze which, in Merlin's opinion was far too intuitive. As it was, she seemed to sense his embarrassment for she laughed again before settling gently at the foot of his bed and patting his leg. Merlin squirmed silently, embarrassed at the intrusion yet somewhat unexplainably gratified by it. "But really, don't you need to sleep? I mean, I always see you at night..."

"Not always," she reminded him, "but my business is best practiced under the cover of night. And of course I sleep, Merlin. I'm human after all." She pronounced the last sentence slowly, carefully even with a touch of disgust. Merlin thought it odd but pressed on.

"Business? What kind of business?"

"Perhaps we should save that story for another time." Her words seemed final and the room descended into silence. After a while, she spoke again. "You have bad dreams?"

"Occasionally," was the reply.

"Bordering on frequently?"

Merlin grinned despite himself at the girl's intuitivism.

"Often enough."

They smiled at each other and Merlin felt himself growing more at ease with every breath but there was a question that needed to be asked before he could relax completely.

"Where are you doing in Camelot, Isolde?"

She froze and her face became an unreadable mask. Merlin wondered whether he had gone too far but after several seconds, she relaxed and the smile returned though it was a little strained.

"Looking for something." It was barely a whisper and yet he heard it as if she had shouted. He stared at her oddly with those blue eyes, the inquisitive expression making his lips part.

"And have you found it?"

"I'm not sure."

Silent contemplation hung in the air.

"Well –"

A sudden noise ripped through the room and Merlin realised that it was the sound of someone knocking on the door to Gaius' chambers. The sudden hush that befell the room was deafening and Merlin felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. Then, more noise, the sound of Gaius wearily rising to his feet and shuffling over to the door. Voices flittered to Merlin's ears and he strained to hear them, creeping towards the door with stealth he didn't know he possessed.

The tail end of a conversation drifted to him as he put his cheek against the door. It was cold and unwelcoming, a reminder that eavesdropping was not the sign of an honest man and Merlin felt ashamed. Still, curiosity triumphed and he pushed his face further into the oak.

"- have been found."

"Two, you say?" Gaius' guest must have nodded for there was a sigh before the old man continued. "That is alarming news. Thank your captain for informing me. I shall go at first light."

The door banged shut and then there was silence interrupted only by a rhythmic thud Merlin realised to be his heart. A night visit from a soldier could only mean trouble but of what sort? More murders maybe? But then, it had never been two in one night before...

His thoughts were interrupted when there was a loud rap on his door. Startled, he jumped back and stared at it dumbly before rationality set in.

"One minute," he called, voice thick with grogginess. Then he lowered his voice and hissed, "Quick!" into the shadows but Isolde was already gone. _Crafty little sneak, _the warlock thought but his eyes were good natured and a small smile played on his lips.

"Merlin," came the concerned voice of Gaius. "Is something wrong?"

"No!" The reply was too eager, too earnest to be truthful and Gaius arched his eyebrow. He opened his mouth to say something but then shut it with a snap; if Merlin wanted to tell him what was wrong, he would. They had been through enough together for Gaius to be able to confidently trust Merlin's judgement, even if occasionally, it was a little riskier than the old man would have liked.

When Merlin opened the door, Gaius immediately noticed the dark shadows under the warlock's eyes, juxtaposed by the brightness within them. They shone with mischief in the dull light, and had the circumstances been different, Gaius might have probed him further. As it was, time was of the essence and they barely had seconds to waste. Talking would have to wait.

"What's happened?"

Gaius looked at his young charge sternly but there was a sadness that tinged his features.

"They've found two more bodies. One was still warm."

There was something shocking about the scene that greeted Merlin's gaze when he walked into the large, comfortable house on Pullman's street. It was a five-roomed building; a house that was unusually large for this part of Camelot, with a stone floor, roughly assembled stove and a small, crocked table with matching chairs in the corner. Each room seemed to lead off from the main chamber and it took Merlin and his mentor several attempts to find the room with the body in. There were no guards to show them for they were not prepared to set foot inside the 'cursed' building for fear of what may happen to them.

Finally, they located the right room. It had only one window, underneath which rested a large straw mattress, broken, blood stained, the straw melting into the pool of red across the floor.

Merlin felt sick.

There was something about the body that frightened him, more so than any of the others that he'd seen. Perhaps it was the way the man had been dragged to the straw pallets upon which he was laid then rearranged to look almost as if he was sleeping. Maybe it was the expression of mingled calm and fear that lined his face. Could it have been the fact that he was so young, barely a day over twenty five or that he had had a family who had loved him, seemingly unlike the rest of the victims? No, Merlin decided. The truth was far simpler than that; Merlin was frightened because the body before him belonged to a man he had known, and that fact brought the fear closer to home. It was no longer a silent stalker but something that was screaming in the young warlock's face, yet still he remained clueless.

As far as he knew, the man before him had had no enemies. He had been well-liked and respected, a Captain in Camelot's army that did his duty and then went home to see his wife. There were no rumours about him, no dark secrets on the tips of people's tongues; he was the perfect father, the loyalist husband, the most dutiful servant. He was also dead.

"Why move the body?" Gaius mused aloud, his voice cutting into the stillness of the room. Merlin shrugged, equally baffled.

"I don't know." The words came out as barely more than a whisper and he shuddered as Gaius inched closer, carefully avoiding the trails of blood across the floor.

"Look, Merlin. What makes this body different from the others, do you think?"

There were many things he could have said, but Merlin guessed that Gaius meant something specific. He studied the body from a distance, sickened. Everything seemed to be just like the others, except... yes, that was it.

"There's no rune on the cheek."

"Exactly. Now why do you suppose that is?"

"The killer was disturbed! Or, they could have forgot! Or, erm..." Merlin trailed off, discouraged by his mentor's raised eyebrows.

"I do not think it likely, Merlin, that the killer just _forgot_, nor do I think it likely that they were disturbed. There is no evidence of a rushed exit." Merlin felt his impatience grow; he just wanted to escape this place and the wretchedness it contained and yet here was Gaius talking in riddles. Merlin was not prepared to play this game for longer than he had to and he snapped,

"So what do you think happened then?"

"What do I think? _I _think that the killer knew this particular victim on a personal basis."

Across the street, a solitary tear trickled down the face of the child of Aethon.


	8. Chapter Seven: The Vision

**AN: A short chapter but hopefully a good one (: Sorry this took me so long to get out :( and double sorry to the person I told it would be up like three weeks ago. Unfortunately, something came up and I haven't really felt like writing a lot since :/**

**Tonight's episode got me in the mood though. Can I just say Arthur - SQUEEEE - Merlin - SQUEEEE :D:D:D:D Hahaaa. I'll quite happily marry either of them ;) Not fussed tbh ;) Haaa. **

**Anyway.......**

**Review, please? I promise to try and update soon with a longer chapter (: It's about time Isolde meets Merlin's friendies, don't you think? ;)**

* * *

Merlin felt rather than saw her fall behind him. Silent footsteps, but she was definitely there as he weaved his way through the market place, careful to avoid stepping on the legions of beggars and pickpockets that were under his feet. She made no effort to speak to him and he made none to turn around, simply continued walking with his clammy hands clutched around the stone tablet like a child.

It was roughly thrice the size of Merlin's hand, edges rounded and set in a wooden frame. The stone was pockmarked, older even than him, but that wasn't why he treated it with such care. On it, drawn in startling detail, was a sketch of rune that had adorned the faces of so many cruelly murdered, which, he thought with a small frown, made Uther's request to see it all the more sickening. He had refused to come down to the mausoleum, instead requesting that a drawing might be made and then taken to him. Merlin, manservant and apparently dogsbody, had been volunteered to do the fetching. And the drawing actually, until Gaius had taken it from him in annoyance and turned Merlin's childish scribble into something a little more elaborate.

It was only after turning into a narrow alley that Merlin stopped to face his stalker. Sure enough, it was her, the grey hood pulled low across her face. From under it, a pair of blue eyes regarded him emotionlessly, heavily fringed by long eyelashes.

"Following me?" His voice was light, friendly. She was, he had decided in the nights since his first meeting, harmless, and if he was completely honest, he liked having her around. She was, by her own wishes, his own little secret, a friend from out of the rain. Between them, there passed an unspoken understanding of magic and though that frightened him, it also left him elated. An angel couldn't be evil, could it? And if Merlin was honest, it didn't hurt that she was the first young woman to look at him and see him as special. Sure, there was Gwen, but that had never been more than an awkward admiration that had never got past the blushing. With Isolde, there was something else.

"Why would I be doing that?" she asked, but there was a playfulness about her eyes that he had not seen before. She smiled, pulling the hood back before hastily rearranging the tendrils of hair that tumbled down her back. Her vanity, Merlin noted, was possibly one of the only things that annoyed him about her. The other was her temper.

As he watched, she lifted her hands to remove the hood of her emerald green cloak. It made a pleasant difference, thought Merlin, to the usual grey. Her complexion seemed luminous, a faint flush in her cheeks; it was the first sign of life he'd seen in her since they'd met. It was then that he noticed the skin of her hands; red, rubbed raw in some places with scratches and bruises in abundance. Against the alabaster skin, the effect was quite ugly, and, Merlin was surprised to say, repulsive.

"What happened to your hands?" It was the wrong thing to say. Immediately, the smile disappeared, replaced by such a look of anger that Merlin physically recoiled.

"It is nothing," she said coldly, lips white.

"Nothing? Isolde, they look painful! I could have Gaius fix up a balm for you if –"

"No, Merlin! No one must know I'm here, else I might have to leave." She pouted and leant forward so that her face was inches from his ear. When she spoke again, it was a purr, her hot breath tickling his neck. "And I don't want to leave, Merlin."

He gulped, unsure of what to say, but felt himself drawn into her. She smelt strange, but the scent was attractive, soft and musky with faint traces of wood and vanilla. He wondered where she slept at night before realising he'd never thought to ask her; in fact, he'd asked her very little.

A sudden clarity of thought flashed through his mind and he heard himself say,

"I could always make you something. Gaius' has taught me a few things. I could make you an ointment to help them heal faster. If you want me to, that is. I mean, Gaius should be out for the day so you wouldn't have to worry about being seen."

"Out?"

"Yes. The King's asked him to investigate something." Merlin paled, suddenly remembering the tablet in his hands. "Bugger. I'm meant to be delivering this to him."

"What is it?" The warlock paused, uncertain whether he should be divulging the sensitive information. Granted, he doubted Isolde was the gossiping type, but one wrong word and the whole inquiry could be jeopardised, and the young servant's killer might never be found. Sensing his hesitation, Isolde leaned forward again, this time her lips touching the edge of Merlin's ear. The sensation sent thrills through him and without being aware of it, the whole story came pouring out.

When he'd finished, she leant away as if satisfied. His head was pounding and he felt a little groggy, but he put that down to the close proximity of her. She really was so very beautiful, and she was all his. Not Arthur's, not Uther's, not even Will's, but his.

"And this is the rune?" Gently, she prised the tablet from his fingers and traced the outline with her own. It seemed to Merlin that for a brief moment, the mark glowed blue under her touch but then it was gone and the pain in his head was intensifying. Confused, he winced as he took the tablet back.

"Merlin? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he lied. "I'm just tired, that's all. I've got to get this to Uther –"

"Leave it." Her voice was hard, commanding, and for a second, he felt his hold on the stone loosen. Then, his senses returned and he found himself clutching it tighter, disbelief swirling about his eyes. "What I mean is," she said in a decidedly softer tone, "it can wait, can't it? You look ill, Merlin. I should get you back and –"

"No. I've got to –"

"You don't have to do anything, Merlin. Anything at all. Why don't you just shut your eyes, Merlin? I know you want to. Go to sleep. I'll look after you."

She was right, so very right, and he felt sleep approaching rapidly. He did not have the energy to fight it, nor the inclination because the truth was that he felt safe. She had hold of him, and her skin was cold, and she was whispering in his ear. No, not whispering; singing, singing a lullaby and she had the voice of a nightingale.

"I – I – Arthur –"

Then, consciousness fled and Merlin knew no more.

***

_Darkness. Emptiness. The sound of sobbing travels on the air. In a small, dark room, a woman waits, her blonde hair flowing and loose around her. Pale skin, paler than fresh snow, reflects the moon. Someone enters, his face stretching into a large grin as he catches sight of the waiting guest. Smile turns to scream. A knife plunges. The body lies still, blood flowing. Sculptured cheekbones turn pallid. Blue eyes are shut with trembling fingers. A knife carves a rune into the cheek. Glows blue. Something is muttered inaudibly. A tear is shed. A long sleeve pulled back to reveal scarred arms. The knife slices, and power surges into the flesh, coursing through the body like liquid fire. A long, piercing cry more dead than alive. _

Somewhere within the depths of night, Morgana screamed.


	9. Chapter Eight: The Beginning of the End

**AN: Finally got this one finished. It took me longer than expected and my interest sort of wained somewhere in the middle, but there you go. **

**Please review :)**

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When Merlin awoke, he was lying in his chamber with a long, silver cloak pulled up to his chin. He pushed it off with shaking arms, though not before noticing that it smelt like her. The scent made his head spin. Tentatively, he rose to his feet and under threat of his knees buckling, tottered over to the door.

It was closed, but through the wood, he could hear someone singing softly to themselves. He opened it a crack and was surprised that he recognised the tune immediately – it was an old lullaby Hunith used to sing to him when he was a child. The lullaby that swept away the nightmares and made him feel safe. Now, in a voice more wonderful than his mother could ever hope to possess, there seemed something sinister to the tune, some underlying darkness that he had never notice before.

Without meaning to, he shuddered.

"Isolde?"

There was no reply so he pushed the door further and stepped out in Gaius' chamber. It stunk of burning, and Merlin could feel with every breath a thin layer of soot line his throat. It was then that he saw her, stood over by the window and staring out as if in a trance. When she spoke, he was so startled that he jumped, knocking his funny bone on Gaius' table. It was covered in shredded herbs and scraps of leaves.

"They have no idea, do they?"

"What?"

"The people. They just… drift around. They have no idea about magic, us. About what's really out there."

"Sometimes," Merlin grinned, "I think that would be easier. Then there would be no pretending, none of the worry. I could just be myself."

"The magic is yourself, Merlin. It's what makes you who you are. Special. It takes time to see that, but eventually, you will." In the reflection of the glass, he saw a dark look appear on her face. "It took me longer than most. I thought that –" she made a strange noise in the back of her throat that sounded like a cross between a sob and a growl. "I thought I could cut it out of me. I certainly tried." Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her heart as she turned so that she was facing him. He felt as if there was some sort of barrier between them that stopped him from getting any closer, but he did not think it was a spell. It was something else, something stronger and more human. He realised it was sorrow.

"But I think it will be different for you. You have a great gift, Merlin. The greatest there will ever be, I think. And one day, people will recognise you for that." Without meaning to, he grinned. She smiled too, but then she faltered and turned back towards the window. "But you'll be lonely. It's your destiny I think. To be accepted, but never fully understood. That is the curse of magic."

The words reverberated around his head several times before his attention became focused on her again. She was looking frail he decided, and if it was possible, even paler. The eyes too were looking desperate, the blue orbs more dead than alive. Merlin tried desperately to think of some joke he could crack to ease the tension, but he realised that now wasn't the time.

"I'm sorry if my words upset you," she said after a while. "I can be like that sometimes." A light, tinkling laugh escaped her lips and without being fully aware of it, Merlin joined in. He liked it when he smiled; it made her so much more beautiful and a little less terrifying.

"What happened to the herbs?"

"I tried to make an ointment. I followed the book and everything. I was going to clean up but – I got distracted."

Merlin laughed, imagining her glaring down at the pestle and mortar in disgust.

"It's fine. I'll clear it up now, and then I'll make you some proper stuff. Gaius always says to use a little bit of your intuition in these things."

After making the medicine, Merlin took great care in tidying the room back to its original state, or what he could remember of it anyway. It was odd, he decided, because he felt like there was a great section of his memories shrouded in mist. He could remember yesterday, and he had no problem with remembering now, but the time in between was distorted .

"This morning," he mused. "Was I anywhere?"

She studied him for a while before answering.

"You were with Gaius and then you were with me."

"I don't remember…" A sudden feeling of nausea over came him and he felt the cloth he had been using to wipe down the side slip through his fingers. "There was a slate. I was meant to give it to Uther. What happened to it?"

Again, there was that cold studying, that calculated look in his eye as she seemed to think about what she should say.

"You fainted, and then you dropped it. Don't you remember, Merlin?"

He began to shake his head, but one look in her eyes and he was nodding. Of course he had dropped it. He could remember it slipping through his fingers! How silly of him to think that she might have done something with it!

"Yes. I remember."

"Good. Now –"

Her words were cut off by the sudden sound of the door being slammed open to reveal a tall, blond haired man with narrowed blue eyes.

"There you are, Merlin! I didn't realise that it was fetch your own servant day!"

"Arthur. I mean, sire." Merlin blinked several times in confusion, his mouth hanging open. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'? You're late! I gave you permission to spend the morning helping Gaius on the condition that you'd be in my chambers at noon! How else do you expect the chores to be done? Magic?" Merlin opened his mouth and then shut it again with a snap. "Don't speak. I bet you've got some sort of reason why you're late, but I don't want to hear it. And aren't you meant to be delivering something to my father?" Merlin nodded, his mouth dry. "Where is it?"

"What?"

"The rune. I'll take it to him. It's obviously too much to ask of you, Merlin."

"I haven't got it."

"What?"

"It smashed."

Arthur's eyes opened very wide and then narrowed again as he took a stride towards the young warlock. "Merlin, you idiot! What do you mean it smashed?"

"It broke. I don't know where it is now."

"And how did you manage that, genius?"

"It was my fault." The lilting feminine voice rang out loud throughout the chamber and at once a look of disgust crossed the prince's face. "I dropped it."

"Is this why you're late, Merlin? Because you've been with some –" Arthur froze, the words dying on his tongue as he caught sight of the perfect, statuesque figure at the window. The frown disappeared, replaced at once by a look of such charm that Merlin was sure he'd spent many hours practising. "I'm Prince Arthur." And then he did something Merlin had never expected him to do; he bowed.

"Isolde. A pleasure to meet you, your majesty." She curtsied back, her eyes never leaving the prince's face. There was, it seemed to Merlin, an intensity that he'd never seen before, an odd sort of desire. Merlin felt a pang of jealousy surge through him that he desperate tried to quash. Isolde was _his_, something that up until now, no one else had been able to touch, and he had liked that.

It had made him feel special.

"I should walk Isolde home. It's –" the warlock began before Arthur interrupted him.

"_You_ should be in my chamber cleaning my room. And then mucking out my horses. And cleaning my tack. Whilst you're at it, you might as well do my armour again – there were smudges on it last time – and sharpen my sword. My clothes need washing as well. And I want a bath when I get back so make sure that's ready for me. _I'll _walk the lady home."

"Sire." Merlin nodded. But not without making his irritation known by a sigh. Isolde caught his eye and winked, at once, he felt his frown broaden into a grin.

"It is a wonderful offer, your majesty, but I'd rather go alone. I have... things... to do; I fear your presence would only complicate matters."

"I –"

"I insist." Her gaze scorched holes in the prince's veneer, and for a moment, he looked bemused about the obvious rejection. Then, he frowned and said,

"The offer stands, my lady. Perhaps you'll do me the honour of another time." Turning back to Merlin, he said, "Still here? I thought I told you to get a move on?" Merlin grinned.

"You know me, sire. A bit slow."

"Quite," the prince replied, but he smiled too.

They filed out into the courtyard. Arthur began to stride out across the courtyard, but all of a sudden he stopped as if pulled back by imaginary strings and turned back to face Isolde and Merlin, who was lagging reluctantly behind.

"Isolde?"

"Yes, sire?" Merlin could not help but notice how the prince blushed under the intensity of his gaze.

"My father is having a banquet next weekend. I – I mean we – would be honoured if you would attend."

She seemed to consider it for several seconds before she assented.

"I would like that."

Arthur nodded before walking away again.

"When will I next see you?" Merlin asked when he was certain that Arthur was out of ear shot. "I want you to teach me what you know about magic."

"It'll be sooner than you expect," she said with a peal of laughter. "I find myself at loathe to stay away from you for too long. I'm always happier when I'm with you." Merlin tried to hide the blush of ecstasy.

"Thank –"

"Merlin!" The shout came from Arthur who was waiting impatiently at the top of the steps. "Hurry up!"

"I better –"

"You're like a star, Merlin. You brighten the world around you, bring beauty and light but eventually you fade, and there's darkness again." The warlock smiled sadly before hurrying off after his master. Isolde sighed watching him disappear from view.

"That is my curse."

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**AN: I have a feeling that everything is going to start going wrong for Isolde after this. Hopefully will get the next crapter up asap in which she'll meet the rest of the cast - and not everyone is going to take to her as well as Merlin and Arthur I'm afraid. :L**


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